


Wintertales

by VPABA



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:54:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27991839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VPABA/pseuds/VPABA
Summary: Drabbles, ficlets and whatever comes to my mind. Enjoy these stories!
Relationships: Catelyn Stark/Ned Stark
Comments: 12
Kudos: 8





	1. To be brave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Winterfell is under attack

Sometimes there is no solution, there is no hope and the bravest thing to do is to run. Run is bravery. She bitterly hated it, it seemed like weakness, but in truth, she had to think of her children, of her people, and the best way to do that was to save her life. And so she ran, nearly tripping with each careless step, they vibrated through her and threatened to make her turn around to find him. « RUN! RUN » he had yelled. When the bell rang an hour ago she swore to herself she’d die with him, it was a thousand times better than life without him. But she was running, and her heart clenched and her breathing was scattered. The deafening sound of swords clattering and rattling together sent chills down her spine, Ned was behind her, holding back the invaders. They had come in the terrible darkness of the night, plotting, coming inside the walls. They were burning the city from the inside. And she could hear the frantic screams of her people being burned alive, murdered, slaughtered, and violently sent to the boat passer. The first thing he did was to send the children to the secret tunnel under the castle, he’d ran to fight and she’d desperately tried finding him. He had blood dripping from his armor and sword, enemy’s blood and his blood too. « Go back! Why are you here! You must go! » The small area was empty, only torches lighting them.« No, no, I don’t want to leave you. » He’d embraced her, despite the blood. « You must. » To speak had been impossible, she’d pressed her lips to his. This would probably the last one. This was her last moment with him. She hated it. She’d always imagined them growing old, together. This was too cruel to be even true. Southron soldiers were heard, they spotted them. That’s when he’d frantically pushed her through the gates behind, yelling at her to run. « RUN! RUN.»

She spotted the hidden passageway; Jory saw her too and extended his arm to her. « My lady! Hurry! » He pushed her through the gate with the same strength Ned had. People, she saw the castle’s people running inside. No, she couldn’t. Jory grabbed her arm. “ My lady! You can’t go back! Winterfell has fallen! » No, she never wanted to hear those words. She was breathless from running, from fear, from pain. Ned wad behind, he’d die for sure. His stupid honor, of course, he’d fall with Winterfell if he had to. But she didn’t want him to die. Then she felt an arm wrapping around her waist and pulling her forward. No, not forward, I must go back. Jory, it was Jory, taking her inside the tunnel. « I’m sorry.» Stupid Jory, Ned probably talked to him. « Your children need you the most. » Yes, they had talked. Every step closer she took to her children was a step taking her further from her husband. How many steps, yards, time? 

Light, day time. The end of the tunnel. The overwhelming sorrow blurred the ache in her body. They were out of the city, and they were miles away from the city. Daylight. How long? Jory, at last, released her hand, stumbling to the dusty floor gasping for air. And she did too. She was a mess, she wanted to see Ned, her husband. The moors were wider than she thought, and she spotted Winterfell in the far distance as well as the large black cloud of smoke hovering all over her home. Winterfell was burning furiously, with her husband inside, dead, probably. How many had died? How many were alive? She was alive, how unfair. 

« Mother! » The voice of her children broke something inside her. They had lived, but at what cost? Without Ned, without Winterfell, they were targets. Southrons would hunt them down until each one was dead and their claim to the North as well. She embraced them wholeheartedly. For now, they were together, they were alive and she’d fight for them. Letting go of Winterfell and Ned was the hardest thing she’d ever done, but when Jory told her they had to go and find allies to shelter them she followed him. With one last glance at the place she had loved dearly, Catelyn relentlessly followed the small group of survivors, holding onto the hope Ned had survived. 


	2. Beloved orphan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Canon divergent, but Westeros is what it is, so the kingdoms are at war. This will help you understand:
> 
> I read Michel Manouchian’s letter, written on February 21st, 1944 and it inspired me. Manouchian was a soldier who wrote a letter before dying, fighting for France’s freedom during World War II. The letter is therefore mostly plagiarized from this brave man.

To read the handwriting on the letter was useless, she had known who it was from before reading the name, before the rider crossed Winterfell’s gates, before they blew the horn. In fact, she had known for days she would receive this letter, from this person precisely. Umber had sent a letter from Duskendale; they were near Victory. The North would win if they hadn’t already. But he had been too close to the enemy lines and got captured. Ned had been captured with other soldiers, it had been enough for her to stop thinking coherently. The children were silent, Winterfell was silent. All waited for what she already knew. Something had broken inside her some days ago. And the letter Luwin was handing her now only legitimated the pounding of her heart. She broke the seal.

_My Dear Catelyn, my beloved little orphan,_

_In a few hours, I won’t be here anymore. We are going to be beheaded this afternoon, February 21st, at 3:000. This is happening to me as an accident in my life, I don’t believe it but yet I know that I will never see you again._

_What can I write to you? Everything is confused in me and clear at the same time. I joined the Northern War as a volunteer, as the warden of the North and I am dying on the brink of Victory, of the goal. Happiness to those who will outlive us and taste the sweetness of Freedom and Peace of tomorrow. I am certain that northerners and all Freedom fighters will be able to honor our memory with dignity. At the moment of my death, I’m proclaiming that I have no hatred against the Lannisters or against anyone, everyone will get what they deserve as punishment and reward._

_The Lannisters and all other people will live in peace and brotherhood after the war, which will not last much longer. Happiness to all… I bitterly regret leaving Winterfell, I would have liked to see our children grow there, together, as you always wanted. So I beg of you to marry after the war, without fail, and to have someone to care for our children. Cherish no sentimental nonsense about remarriage. When the right man comes to help you in life, you ought to be your happy self again. And I wish for you to be happy. Winterfell is passing to Robb, and my belongings I bequeath to you. After the war, you will be able to get your claim on Riverrun, as its only heir. I die a regular soldier in the Northern army here, no title, just a man._

_With the help of allies who will honor me, you will share those writings that I find worth reading, for all the lords of Westeros, they should know what I esteemed of this polity. You will care for Winterfell. You will soothe our children’s grief. I will die with 23 northerners later with the courage and serenity of a man with a clear conscience because personally, I did not betray anyone, and if I did, I did it without hatred, but for the honor. Today there is sunshine. Looking at the sun and the beautiful nature that I have loved so much, I will bid farewell to life and to all of you, my dear wife, my dear friends. I forgive all those who hurt me or wanted to hurt me. The leagues do not stop me from embracing you and feeling one last time the softness of your skin, the red of your hair, the blue of your eyes. You have shown me love, and so much more, you have shown me how to live, how to be happy. I hold you, all, tight in my heart, forever._

_Goodbye, your friend, your companion, your husband. Eddard Stark_

A choking sensation grasped her throat and she found herself unable to move or say something. Comprehension crawled up inside her, it felt like she would vomit. This unbearable sensation of ache and grief and anger got her to sink to her knees, clutching the cruel letter against her chest as if it could ever bring back the comforting warmth her husband had once provided her. Before reading the letter she had been certain she would cry, but there was no dampness, no tears as if her emotions had inevitably died with him. Her tears were freezing inside her before even coming out. Winter came for Catelyn.


	3. Red snow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Modern AU: conflicts with Freys are more complicated than we thought

Sansa stared at the street lamps as the car passed by them, it ended up looking like a blurry golden lining following her. The night was dark already and the snow kept falling. It had fallen all week and the city was covered with a white coat, it was beautiful but burdening. She had left school and went to her mother’s office to finish her homework. In the meantime, her mother had been in a meeting with StarkCo employees but it had lasted a long time and now it was 9 pm and they were very late for dinner. Her mother had called a cab, the subway would take way too long. What a mistake. They hadn’t cleaned Winterfell Avenue yet and the cab slowly followed the snowplow.

« This is taking forever,» She said turning away from the window and looking at her mother. She was lost in her thought, looking through the window as well. « Mom. »

« Yes? » She turned to face her. « I’m sorry sweetling. It was a long day, I hope we’ll be home soon. »

« What happened back there? » She’d seen her mother storming out of the meeting room. Maege Mormont and Rodrik Cassel were just as angry. They had gone straight to the terrace to calm themselves down.

« Walder Frey happened. He’s a mad man, it’s impossible to talk with him. »

« Why dad wasn’t here? »

« He was at LannisCo to meet with Tywin Lannister and Olenna Tyrell. »

Sansa didn’t like those people. At first, they had been nice to her but for a few years, since she was old enough to understand everything, they had stopped any kind of contact with her. When Robb was seventeen Tywin even talked to him at a Gala to get information. Disgusting man.

« What did he say? I’ve never seen you like that. »

« Oh, Sansa. You don’t need to know. »

If she was honest, Sansa knew, she heard Maege and Rodrik talk. Frey had literally threatened StarkCo with murder. Murder. She heard Maege say _he said he’d come for her Rodrik. He’s dangerous. Catelyn should mind the man, she was wrong to answer his provocations_. And now Sansa was truly worried for her mother.

Then she was too far away, so she slid closer to her mother who wrapped her arm around her, and pressed a kiss to her head. « Oh my darling. » There, in the darkness of the car and safely against her mother, Sansa’s mind drifted back to Maege’s words: _Catelyn swore to stop him if it could protect StarkCo and Robb_. He won’t accept that. Sansa had never felt like this, death was something far away and to think bout losing anyone in her family was unbearable. Although one day it would happen. But not now. Not now. « I love you, mom. » She looked up, her mother was smiling at her, blue eyes darkened by the mass of red hair around her face.

« I love you too my darling, my sweet, sweet daughter. »

At last, the cab stopped in front of the manor. They got out and Sansa tightened her grip on her mother’s arm as if it would protect her from the cold wind that hit her cheeks to the bone. They said Starks didn’t fear cold. _Must be the Tully blood then_. Indeed, her mother was very wrapped in multiple layers of sweaters, one could barely see any kind of skin.

They crossed the street and Sansa looked at the car that was starting right on the other side of the street. Fear gripped her heart. it was a black car and the window opened. She’d imagined too many things over the car ride. But then a man got his arm out of the car, Sansa heard « Hey Stark! »

Sansa didn’t have time to see his face, all she knew was a deafening sound of thunder, blurring all her surrounding. She panted as she watched the car speed up and disappear in the dark of the night. Her heart was tight, she held her mother’s arm tighter. But it was limp.

She turned her head. Her mother stared at nothing, she wasn’t moving either. She ran her eyes over her form and she spotted it. She spotted the blackish hole in the beige coat. Her breathing sped up as she saw the black hole widening, and turning red. « mom… mom » her throat was too tight, understanding stuck her hard. They had shot her, she had been shot. Right in her belly. « mom »

Her mother slowly dropped to the snow-covered ground. And then there was her father, and all her brothers and sisters. The shot. They must have heard it. Sansa couldn’t hear anything else. Far away there was her father’s voice shouting. He pushed her aside, bent over her mother. Sansa felt the tears welling up when the redness spread on the snow.

Her mother wasn’t moving, her face was whiter than snow. Her father was screaming, he was going mad. For the first time since she spotted the dark stain, she took her eyes off her mother. Robb, Arya, Bran, and Rickon were absolutely crying. _Why_. Medics would be here in a second, her mother was going to be okay. She was okay. She was going to look at her and say: get inside everyone, you’ll catch your death. No Sansa shook the words out of her mind, they sounded wrong. She approached the scene. Her mother had still her eyes open, she was still alive but her breathing was scattered, and the blood kept spreading on the snow.

« mom » She saw her, Sansa knew she could see her, hear her. « mom » But she wasn’t moving. Her father was holding her close, he was shaking. There was a siren far away, it was getting closer. It was here. Medics. The neighbor called them, everyone on the street was outside. Then the medics were moving her mother on a stretcher. Sansa nearly fainted when she saw the pool of blood accumulated under where her mother had been. And then they were taking her to the truck.

« no.. no, No MOM! MOM! » Sansa screamed trying to follow the stretcher but she was held back by Jory, the neighbor. « Sansa! Sansa! Calm down, your father is going with her. »

« NO! I have to go! » Then she recalled. She escaped Jory’s grip and ran to her father. « Dad! Dad! It’s Walder Frey! I know it is! Dad » and then she collapsed in his arms, moved by all the things happening. Jory lifted her, taking her away from from the truck, the last thing she saw was her mother lying on the damn stretcher white as death itself.

**

She couldn’t go inside. It felt like entering the bad memory that happened a week ago. She hadn’t slept or eaten or gone outside. She just couldn’t. But then her father told her they could visit their mother at the hospital. Sansa couldn’t face it, no matter how much she wanted to see her mother alive.

She stood in the corridor as all her siblings entered the room. She couldn’t go inside. The corridor was cold and dark, and it terrified her to recall the cold and dark night. She feared the black car, the loud sounds. There had been thunder three days ago. She couldn’t sleep. Her grandfather Hoster and uncle Edmure came home to take care of them while her father spent almost all his time at the hospital. The first three days, the medics told him she wouldn’t survive, she’d lost too much blood. But she had. And then the police started an investigation and they had arrested Frey after hearing Maege and Rodrik. He was under high surveillance and they were still looking for the people who were in the car.

« Sansa. » her father’s voice startled her. « Are you not coming? »

He had barely talked to them all week, he’d been distant. Sansa knew her father loved their mother to death and she was certain he’d die too were she to die. They were just like in romantic stories and movies. She understood his sadness, but she was mad at him for not coming home to them. For pushing her aside a week ago when she believed her mother was dying. And she was.

He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and led her to a bench in the corridor. « Sansa, love. I understand that you are scared to go in there. It’s terrifying. And what happened to you was horrible. You were there, you saw everything. Sansa, you are not at fault and your mother would like very much to see you. » Sansa felt the tears picking at her eyes again.

« Listen to me, sweetie. Now that the doctors believe strongly in her recovery we can start having our life back again. All of this was unfair, terribly unfair. You should never have to see that at sixteen. Not ever. But we must go on. And when you will enter that room, it’ll allow you to see she is alive, you can move one my dear Sansa. »

Sansa nodded. She wanted to see her mother. She wanted to forget that memory of her in the truck, so pale. She stood with her father and walked to the room. She felt like she would choke. The door opened and she saw her siblings gathered around the bed, and she saw her. She was pale. It reminded her of the old tree in their garden back home; the Heart tree. It was white, its truncates were white, but its leaves were bright red; just like her mother’s hair. Sansa took a step toward her, and she saw her. Her mother stared at her, forgetting about the others. She felt the tear roll down her cheeks, she couldn’t move. And then her father was leading her to the hospital bed. And then her mother opened her arms for her. And then she was sobbing in her arms, and her mother was weeping too. « Sansa. » Hearing her voice, her touch… Sansa began to cry all she’d held back the previous week. Sansa pulled back to look at her, she was alive.

She quickly noticed that everyone else had left the room, she was alone with her mother. No. She didn’t want to be alone with her. She couldn’t be. She looked around, trying to reach for someone. « Sansa, Sansa my sweetling. » Her eyes fell on her mother. She was alive but all sorts of tubes were attached to her arms. And there was a breathing machine with its tube stuck in her nose.

« Sansa listen to me my sweetling. » she stroke her hand. « I am alright. It’s okay, we’re safe here. We’re safe. I am safe. » she nodded. There were no words, Sansa knew it, and she knew what her mother was thinking. There were no words either. _She must have been worried for me too_. At last, Sansa felt like she could talk. « I thought you were dead. » She couldn’t say it otherwise, it’s what she had felt every hour until now. « Oh my sweet girl. » Her mother pulled her to her, Sansa felt the weakness in her arms. « I am not. And we are together. »

« I don’t want to leave,» she said later when everyone was back. She hadn’t left the bed, and the only thing making her feel better was the sweet hand stroking her back, her mother. She needed to feel her, to know she was alive. She couldn’t go. « Sansa - » her father began. « No dad. I’m not leaving. » Rickon who had been silent began to fuss. « I want to stay too. » And then it was Bran, and Arya, And Robb. It turned into an argument and Sansa saw how much it hurt her mother. She was alive but she wasn’t well.

« Stop it. Everyone. You are all going home. Ned, you too. They need you more than I do now. »

« But Cat - »

« No Ned, _they_ need you. »

**

Sansa collapsed on the floor. Everything was destroyed, shattered. She couldn’t believe it, she wouldn’t believe it. How could they… how could they do that? People around were just like her. And her father had turned into stone. They had come back. They had finished the job. Overnight. They had killed her mother.


	4. Daughter of Winterfell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya Stark struggles with who she is.

The sharp blade mesmerized her. She’d seen it countless times at her father’s belt. It was glowing in the last rays of dawn - with winter coming, the days were getting shorter. Arya ran her fingers along Ice’s Valyrian Steel, the feeling of it only was enough to send chills down her spine. It had killed countless men. It had protected Winterfell and the North. Ice was somehow family.

She took a step closer and tried to lift the item though it was extremely heavy and it promptly escaped her grip only to fall on the paved floor. The sound resonated in the entire building. Arya was sure she’d get caught. She had absolutely no right to be in the armory, touching the blades, and… missing class.

She peered outside the gate to see if anyone had noticed the noise. Winterfell at this time of the day was intimidating, with the sun lowering, long dark shadows were dancing on the facades, but she loved it, she felt safe with the shadows that had welcomed her since day one. The courtyard was busy with men sparring and coming back and forth the Great Keep, the squashed snow had been pushed aside during the day, making the courtyard all muddy. And the sight of it made her happy. Sansa hated mud, but she loved it, it was only wet dust. Then she saw someone approaching in the distance. Robb. And he was staring at her, with rather concerned eyes. Arya gulped. She glanced back at the great sword on the floor, there was no way she could escape this.

By the look of her brother, she knew the following seconds of her life would be terrible. If not in the next days. She stepped outside as he came closer, she could see the decomposing glint in his eyes.

"Arya." His voice was stern, intimidating, it reminded her of their father. Her father, Arya looked once more at the blade, if anyone was to find out… "Could you help me out?" she said in a small voice. He looked behind her and sighed. "What were you doing?"

He walked past her and easily lifted the heavy sword to put it back on its support. "We’ve been looking for you for hours Arya."

"Did Mother send you?" She answered. The name was bitter, she was tired of acting nice and lady-like. Sansa was great at it, not her. She had tried, desperately tried to please Septa Mordane, her parents, her mother principally. She wanted to make them proud more than anything but fate seemed against her. They were all perfectly good looking, they had nothing to prove to their parents. Arya knew she was loved, but it wasn’t enough, the others had a respect that she had not. Was it her hair color? Her clumsiness? She’d stopped trying at one point. Robb’s eyes were defiant, impatient, but kind all the same. "She did. She was worried." He crossed his arms, resting against the wall.

"Am I punished?"

"Probably." Of course, she would be. Robb sighed, he pulled her to him. "I won’t tell them what you were doing. But I can’t help you with the missing class stuff." Arya loved her brother, and Jon too. Jon and Robb were the best. "I know this stuff can be boring, and I know you. But the more you resist it, the less you’ll like it. We all had to sit for hours listening to Westeros’s history."

Arya shook her head. "Westeros’s history is fun. But it was a sewing class that I escaped. And I doubt you ever had to go through that."

"You’re nine Arya. Sewing will be a lifetime burden. Might as well give Septa Mordane what she wants."

"It’s not Mordane I’m worried about." Just then, the person she wanted to see the last appeared in the distance. Both Robb and her stopped walking, given how quick her mother was marching towards them it was useless. She was terrifying, all ready to shout at her. There was anger in her eyes. Arya knew she was in big trouble. Robb walked away, _coward_.

She took a deep breath and sent all her strength to the control of her eyes, she would not cry. Her mother halted right in front of her, Arya had to look up to meet her eyes. But then, she was vigorously pulled forward. It took a moment for Arya to understand that she was not being yelled at but embraced. The grip was just as gentle as strong.

"Arya, where were you?" Her mother said with the softest voice. She bit her lip, not daring to look up again. "We’ve been searching for you for hours." What happened during those hours? It felt like something happened, her mother couldn’t be nice after what she did. Why was she not yelled at? Sent to her chamber? Embraced? Her mother pulled back winding her arm around her shoulders and leading her back to the Great Keep.

"Your father was about to call the guard to come to get you. Don't ever do that again." Arya hesitated before asking, but curiosity was stronger. "Aren't you angry with me?"

"I'm furious." Arya felt a shiver run through her blood. "But mostly I was afraid." She couldn't count the number of times she had run away, why now be afraid?

The confusion on her face must have been obvious. "I’ll tell you about it with your father. Come on." Going to her father’s solar was a rare situation, as children, they weren’t much allowed there. She’d learned long ago that it better not to ever disturb them at work. Only Rickon was often there, Arya supposed she had been there too when she was still a toddler. They all had. At last, they reached the place, her father was sitting behind his large desk, the fire crackling on the other side of the room. As expected Rickon was playing with wooden toys on the carpet. He noticed them before her father did.

Rickon wailed when he saw them, extending his arms to their mother. Arya was told to sit down by her father. Dread crawled inside her, they were all too nice, too solemn. Arya chose to sit next to her mother and Rickon, waiting for her father to do the same.

"Arya, love," He began " I’d like for you to understand why you can’t run off your classes like you did today." None had anger in them, she could see it. "Something happened today. You must know what it was. Arya, there’s been a killing within the castle walls, a girl around your age was killed, the cook’s daughter."

Ah, it explained all the guards in the courtyard, and in front of all the gates. It had been tricky to hide, she understood why now. She understood why her mother acted like this too. She squeezed her hand, suddenly sensing the threat to Winterfell, a threat that could have been upon her.

"Can you imagine what your mother felt when the Septa came at the same time saying you had disappeared?" She’d seen how fast she walked in the courtyard and it had been enough.

There was silence. How come she didn’t hear of it? "I am sorry. I had no idea."

"A guardsman found her, he reported it immediately. But given we have no idea who committed this crime, we didn’t alert all of Winterfell. Rodrik made sure the guards were aware of the threat but few know. Your brothers and sister don’t know."

"They’re not that aware… they didn’t even see me sneak out the Keep." Her father smiled kindly, pulling her to his lap. "You outsmart them all, I know that. But please Arya, don’t miss class again. I’ll feel better knowing you are under the Septa’s watch. It’s all for your safety."

The pleading in her parent’s eyes was too much, even little Rickon had calmed down, he stared at her intensely. "Yes, I promise I won’t run away again. Even if I hate sewing."

"Good, thank you my sweetling." Her mother said leaning to take her hand. "I can’t stand the idea of harm coming to you."

There was a knock at the door which startled her. Rodrik Cassel. "We found him." And then her father was standing to grab his cloak. Arya stepped to her mother waiting for him to say something.

"Catelyn take them to your chamber, have the others brought to you too. I’ll come to see you when this is over."

"Yes, my lord." She wrapped her arm around her waist and pulled her closer. Once the door was closed, Arya bent to hug her mother. She wanted to apologize but words got caught in her throat. This was not only about today’s events anymore. And Arya felt the tears welling up. Rickon was settled down on the floor, next thing she knew was the embrace around her. She was a big girl, she was a Stark and a Tully, how could she cry like this, so easily?

Her mother rocked her back and forth murmuring words Arya could no longer hear through her sobs. She hated how things were, it was why she ran off in the first place. If she could no longer run away, how would she get noticed? Sansa, perfect Sansa was just going to draw all the attention. And since Arya was not good at anything, there wouldn't even be something to be noticed, or yelled at.

All her siblings had their gifts, Bran was just appreciated for who he was,Rickon was the cadet. She was the second daughter, without much beauty or skills. How were they going to love her?

"Tell me, my sweet girl, it’s not about the murder is it?" Arya clutched the fabric of her mother's gown even tighter. She hated that too, how in spite of everything her mother did, she couldn't bring herself to hate her. She had prayed so many times to the Old and New Gods to give her Sansa’s sewing talent, Bran’s gender, or even Robb’s place as firstborn, they hadn’t granted her that. "Nobody loves me, I'm nobody, and I'm ugly." The words slipped out before she could stop them. She didn’t want to be here, she wanted to run away again.

The silence around the room became heavier than Ice. Arya stared at the flames dancing in the fireplace, it was soothing. It didn’t make sense, she’d never been so scared and relieved at the same time than after saying the words that she carried in her heart. The tight embrace was broken only when her sobbing had stopped.

Arya raised her head with apprehension, and what she saw made her want to cry again. There were tears on her mother's cheeks, rolling gently down her pretty face. She raised her hand to wipe them away, it didn't suit her to cry.

"Mommy." Her gaze met hers. "I’m sorry. I’m sorry Arya." That was unexpected. "I’m sorry darling if I made you feel like you weren’t loved." Her throat tightened again.

"You are my child Arya, there’s no one like you and I would want no other. Yes, you make me go mad when you disobey and you are the hardest thing I ever had to experience, but thanks the seven I have you. Gods be good Arya, you are loved, smart and beautiful too! I see it every time I lay eyes upon you." Arya pressed her face against her mother’s chest.

"You are at an age where finding out who you are is the most difficult task. You have brothers and a sister, but you should never compare yourself to them. Each one of you grows differently, will have its own path, and you, my dearest, you will find yours eventually. And I will love you for who you are, no matter what your choice is." Arya sniffled, she could believe in this. "And I’m not saying this because I am your mother. I heard Lady Dustin and Lady Mormont talk about you honey, do you know what they said? They’re all saying you are the truest Stark, you look like your father, the Lord of Winterfell, they say you are like your aunt, Lyanna Stark, the fiercest. You bear your great-grandmother's name with all the pride she deserved. Don’t ever think you are nobody. You are Arya Stark."

Arya muffled a laugh, her mother was silly. "And you forgot Tully!"

She nodded smiling widely. "You are Arya Stark Tully of Winterfell." Arya straightened on her lap as she talked theatrically. "Stark and Tully, from the South and the North. A Daughter of water and winter. Strength, intelligence, honor… you name it!"

Just then the door opened and Arya jumped off her mother’s lap. She didn’t want people to think she loved her mother, that wouldn’t change. Robb, Sansa, and Bran were accompanied by Old Nan in the solar. "Oh Catelyn, there you are. Ned wanted me to take the children to you."

They came inside gawking suspiciously at her. Robb flashed a smile at her. But then it was Sansa talking to her. "You cried. You’re a baby." Arya wanted to throw herself at Sansa and slap the smirk off her face.

"That’s not nice Sansa." Her mother said coldly. Arya had satisfaction in watching Sansa lower her head. "Am I a baby?" she added and Sansa’s eyes widened. "What?"

"You made it a fact. Arya cried so she’s a baby. I cried, does that make me a baby?"

Sansa went red a mumbled an apology which Arya found blissful, she shared a gaze with her mother and sat down next to Robb. Old Nan whispered something to their mother which drew everyone’s attention.

"Looks like we have some time ahead of us. How about a game sweetlings? Arya, you choose."

"Pleaaase let us play the Westerosi houses game." Said, Sansa. "No! We roleplay! I want to be a kingsguard!" Shouted Bran. It went on and on until Arya had an idea. "The compliment game."

"What’s that?"

"Name’s says it all. You have to make a compliment to whoever you want. You must throw the dice, the higher the number is, the better the compliment has to be. For example, if I compliment Sansa: I get 1, I’ll say ‘your braid looks nice’, but if it’s 6, I’ll say: ‘Sansa, despite appearances, I admire your intelligence, it’s too bad you don’t use it to be nice to me, but I really think you are the most intelligent."

There was a silence and Arya bit her lip. Her sister was staring at her, shocked?

"That’s…very nice Arya, thank you." She grabbed the dice and chose Bran. 3 "You are the best climber the world has seen." And then it was Old Nan who picked their mother. 5 "My lady, you’ve brought life to this castle, literally with this five children, but also figuratively; Winterfell and its Lord have never been more alive." And then it was Robb’s turn, to Arya, 3 "oh my god, that has to be Arya’s skills for hide and seek. It’s like she can disappear or disguise herself at any time. »

  
The game went on and Arya found her idea great, never before had they said such nice things to each other. At one point their father was back and agreed to play, thinking it to be a great idea and praising her. Of course, he’d picked her mother to compliment and they had thrown sickening sweet compliments at the other for a despairingly long time.

Her mother’s words came to her mind _you are Arya Stark Tully of Winterfell_. She might not be a great beauty, or a great sewer, or whatever her sister was, but Arya knew in this brief instant that she had a loving family and she admired them all equally. And maybe, they considered her their equal and admired her too, she felt like they did. 


	5. To a passer-by

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU The Corps: 
> 
> What is Catelyn Tully supposed to do when she’s fiancée with Brandon Stark... but loves his brother?

She held him in her arms as best she could. She could feel his breath on her neck as he whispered a thousand apologies yet it didn’t feel right. Nothing felt right anymore concerning Brandon. Catelyn knew very well that her love for him had vanished, and she even wondered if she had ever loved him at all. His hand slid down her back and squeezed her ass, and he brought her closer to him and began to nuzzle her cheek. "

You have nerves." Her voice was colder than intended but she had absolutely no desire to allow him to have his ways. They were in her office in StarkCo, Brandon loved making love to her here, she believed it helped him feel powerful and truth be told she had enjoyed it. But now was different, he had left for two weeks and had never been more unfaithful. She had asked Howland to keep an eye on him and when they came back she would have rather never asked.

"Catelyn I don’t think this is necessary."

"Please Howland, I need to know. I can’t just marry him and be in the dark about this. Tell me. "

The tall dirty blond-haired man sighed and sat beside her. They were friends now, ever since she worked at StarkCo she had spent a lot of time with him and Ned. _Ned_. Sometimes she was glad Howland was here only because it prevented her mind to go to very dark places, she had pushed away those feelings and she carefully buried them so deep they would never hurt, but they did.

"Don’t tell me it was just sex. I’ve had enough of this. " Her knuckles were white on her lap, but she didn’t look away. Howland seemed uncomfortable, and she could see pity in his eyes, no she wouldn’t be pitied.

"There was this girl he met last year in the Reach, she spent a lot of time in his room. Cat really I don’t… " She held up a hand and interrupted him."Any other?"

When he nodded, she felt her soul being ripped apart, the strong armour she had built over the years with Brandon just melted away. He had promised. He had promised he’d stop this insanity after he had asked her to marry him. He had told her no girl in the world could possibly be dearer than her and now his words sounded bitter and full of lies. "How many Howland?" She paused. "No, don’t tell me. It doesn’t matter…

"He sat closer to her and placed a hand over hers. "Catelyn, I know Brandon is my friend, but what he did to you… I could never forgive him. " She bit her lip hard and tried to keep the tears at bay, crying wouldn’t help."Thank you, Howland. I think I need to be alone a bit. " His smile was filled with worry and pain when he left her office. Catelyn sank into the couch and allowed tears to roll down her cheeks. She couldn’t marry him.

A few moments later Brandon had come into her office and now he was once more trying to have his ways with her.

She pulled away from his embrace, she listened to him gloat about the Reach and then he told her about the girls, and his customary use of the plural hurt even more now. "Nerves? I missed you Cat. " He seized her wrist and pulled her to him once more, crushing his lips on hers and claiming them as his, how many lips did he kiss in the Reach?

"Brandon stop. " She struggled against his chest but his hold was stronger. « Cat, there’s no one like you. " For one moment Catelyn felt glad his head was tucked in her neck, he wouldn’t see the threatening tears. His lips roamed over her neck and cleavage and she could feel his hardness brush against her, she shuddered at it, he had hurt her too much, but she couldn’t help the feeling of having him with her once more in her arms.

He was grunting against her skin and the rough feeling of his stubble aroused her, she desired him anyway. But she wouldn’t marry him, she couldn’t marry someone she didn’t love. Catelyn closed her eyes and allowed Brandon to claim her body one last time, one last.

Her legs bumped against the desk behind her and as he lifted her on it, she imagined the girls he had done this with, probably they were like her, forced to submit by Brandon and his charisma. The sensation of his length inside her was the sweetest surrender, she knew she would cry after, once he would leave her office she would collapse on this very desk and bitterly mourn.

But the familiar wave of pleasure took away all coherent thoughts, he certainly was an asshole but he was a great lay. She found in her release something alike a blessing this time, this would be her last time with him and it made it even more mighty. She hated the satisfied grin on his face when he pulled out of her and looked at her. She could never marry a man who couldn’t see his touch was no more welcome.

"You are the best Cat." There was a sting in her heart at those words, she wanted to scream at him, she wanted to strike him, and yet she stayed quiet and observed as he dressed again. Was she a mere toy for him? He barely offered anything else, simply pecked her lips, and left the office. They hadn’t seen in two weeks, they were fiancees and all he’d done was fuck her senseless.

Catelyn sighed and walked around the desk; there would be no tomorrow for Brandon and herself, there would be no more ‘us.’ She buried her head in her hands and tried to steady the wild rhythm of her heartbeat.

Once she felt like herself again, she rose and went to the library on the floor below, Brandon had disturbed her work, a work she had chosen so she would be with him, a work she had chosen because she had fancied herself as Mrs. Stark in StarkCo, how stupid.

She explored the aisles for financial books but unavoidably her steps led her to the French poets. Lost in her thoughts she didn’t see him until she was standing right before him. Her heart jumped at the sight as it always did, and as she always ignored.

"Ned! You’re back. " He was startled himself and took a step back, dropping the book he was attentively reading. Her eyes fell on the cover, and she bent to pick it up.

_Baudelaire, The Flowers of Evil_

Her heart skipped a beat again, she had carved those poems in her heart long ago and they would remain there forever. She looked up at him, at his somber face which only enlightened the sparkle in his eyes.

"You’ve read this before?" She stood still in the aisle, and once more the buried feelings were banging at the doors of her heart.

He smiled and softly seized the book. _"Elsewhere, far, far from here! Too late! Never perhaps!For I know not where you fled, you know not where I go…_ "

Catelyn held back the sharp intake of breath at the sound of the words she knew well. She closed the distance and put her hand on the book too. " _O you whom I would have loved, O you who knew it_."

She didn’t know how long she remained there gazing at him but at one point he stepped back and cleared his throat. She suddenly acknowledged her surroundings and found it staggering. She couldn’t give him the keys to this door, not yet.

" I landed this morning with Brandon and Howland." Here it was, the unforgettable need to remind themselves of the present and the situation. She nodded softly and let go of the book. "I saw them. Was the trip good? "

She perceived a shadow cross his eyes, but it was gone before she had the chance to understand it. "It was fine. Mostly work you know. " He must have known about Brandon and the girls; he always knew but never mentioned it. She had hidden her pain from him; she had hidden everything from him, she knew it would be inappropriate to share her feeling concerning Brandon with him. She knew the buried feelings felt wrong, but she also knew many things would have been different had she met Ned first.

Promptly she felt the overwhelming need of sharing her feelings with him. "Ned, I…" She paused, and he gazed at her quizzically. "Oh gods how am I to do this?" She lowered her head and bit her lips. _Say something Ned, say something._ He didn’t move or talk.

When her eyes met his again, she saw many things, pain, compassion, and hopefully what she believed to be affection.

"I won’t marry Brandon. "

The expression on his face almost caused her to smile, he was startled and stuttering.

"I… but, why? " The pain inside her increased with every breath. She found it difficult this time to stop a tear from escaping. She knew her lips were trembling. "You know why. "

Suddenly it became hard to breathe when he looked at her like that, she opened her mouth to say something but only a sob came out and she collapsed in his arms crying. He wrapped his arms around her but said nothing.

Catelyn knew nothing and everything. Of course, Brandon’s infidelity was the main reason for her decision but she simply couldn’t picture a future with him and she couldn't bear the thought of having to see Ned for the rest of her days and consider him her brother-in-law. Baudelaire’s _To a passer-by_ came to her mind and she scolded herself for it, she was a lousy human and she didn’t deserve Ned’s generosity.

"Yes, I know." She pressed herself closer to him, his broad chest was just as comforting as painful. The words held way more worth than they seemed. Catelyn wondered if they could ever let go of their doubts and just be together, she wondered if it would ever be possible after Brandon, her heart wished it but her mind fought it. When she closed her eyes, she saw Ned, only him, it was him with whom she wanted to live and love. He was nothing like Brandon. How come fate was so severe to them? Never did they share an inappropriate word, but his looks had been enough. The way his breath was getting caught in his throat when he saw her, and the way he’d find excuses for not seeing Brandon when she was here. She knew that because she felt the same.

"I take it Brandon doesn’t know yet? " Catelyn wiped away the dampness on her cheeks and took a step back. "No, he doesn’t. I think I’ll tell him tonight. Oh, Ned, this is a terrible homecoming. " He sighed and lowered his gaze as if the books surrounding them could give him a hint."He won’t take it well, at all."

"No, he won’t." Her mind drifted to this one time she had flirted with a random guy in a bar and Brandon had broken the man’s nose and threatened her. _How dare you do this to me? Who do you think you are?_ This sounded like a nasty joke to her now that he had cheated on her more times than humanly tolerable. She saw the distress on Ned’s face and shook the memory away. "It’s okay Ned, he won’t hurt me. He’ll yell, he’ll threaten me, but he won’t hurt me."

But she wasn’t so sure anymore. Ned clasped her hand, his grip was firm and held too much hope, hope could cut deeper than resignation. "When the time is right, we will meet again Cat. I know we will."

She nodded, as soon as she would tell Brandon she was leaving, he'd send her out of his life. She'd be far from StarkCo, far from Winterfell, and far from Ned. "We will." The grey of his eyes gave her strength for the evening to come, the weeks. It gave her strength for all the time they’d spent apart until they would meet again.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
